Glaring Dream
by Laree
Summary: KxRyuichi, somewhat AU. A fic about Nittle Grasper's rise to fame.


Title:  Glaring Dream 

Part:  1/5

Author:  Laree McKenzie

Fandom:  Gravitation

Pairing:  K x Ryuichi

Rating:  PG13 for this part

Contact:  lareemackie@yahoo.com.au

Archive:  

Dedication:  To dearest Juju, this is my very, very long overdue birthday present, but as they say, better late than never.  This was only late around four months or so, right? *snerk*

Don't worry dear, K will be bonking Ryuryu like a mad bunny somewhere in part three, but there will be no blood, you farkin maniac.  I refuse to have Ryuryu bleeding.  He will, however, receive a thorough plundering, beneficial for him and K, fun to read for us fangirls *snerk*.

   Also, please feel free to reward me with a nice Shigure x Hatori, Sanzo x Hakkai, Brad x Nagi, Brad x Schuldich (or Schuldig, as you say) or Hatori x Akito, I reckon you're manic enough to be able to get into Akito's character well. :P

   Kiss the lovely Aussie soil that I miss so much for me, dear, and gorge yourself with lots of sausage rolls!  God, where do you bloody find sausage rolls here??? T_T  

Lali ^_^

Glaring Dream 

**Chapter One**

**"I want K!"**

It looked as though he'd wasted yet another night.  Slouching down onto his seat, K stared intently at the drink set before him, on the table that he alone occupied, as though the sight of the ice-cubes melting slowly into the amber liquid enthralled him.

   He didn't even know why he bothered anymore.  Every night he was disappointed, finding nothing but the same shit over and over again in all of the bars and nightclubs that he frequented in the hopes of discovering something.  Maybe there was a raw, talented youth out there whose mournful songs and heartfelt lyrics were enough to bring tears to your eyes, or a sweet, bubbly young thing whose sheer energy and all out performance drew you to him as though his mere presence had the very pull of gravitation itself.

   Almost every night of the week, he would push back the thought of his inevitable disappointment and hope for the best before he set out on his search.  And yet he found that every club he visited were all pretty much the same, though some were further down the road towards complete deterioration than others.  

   In all of them he encountered the same assortment of personalities, the Goths clad all in black, their faces grotesquely pale, numerous piercings on any available part of their bodies.  The androgynous, waif like bishounen who you could barely distinguish from the female sex, clad in skin tight clothing baring midriffs where ribs protruded alarmingly, faces impeccably made up, and many, many more who K couldn't even begin to describe, what with their strange, indefinable beauty.  You could find pretty much anything and everything in these places, whatever worked for you.  Within the writhing mass of humanity, you would encounter a heady mix of Tokyo's beautiful, her strange, her depraved, her lost souls, and yet K couldn't find the one thing that he was looking for:  someone with music in his soul, someone who lived and breathed music, whose very existence revolved around letting the whole world in on the wealth of creativity locked within his seemingly nondescript persona.  K couldn't settle for anything less, he wouldn't.

   But the musicians that he'd encountered so far had all disappointed him.  They had all been missing something that K couldn't quite pinpoint, but which he was confident he would immediately recognize if ever he encountered it.  Whoever it was that caught his eye-or ear, as the case may be-would have to be made of sterner stuff than the usual J-Pop material.  He'd have to be really different, his songs would have to set themselves apart from all of the high wailing, heart thumping pop tunes that had all become rather formulaic, as though they'd originated from the same musical arrangement, the same lyrics, the same voice.

   After all, he hadn't ditched his high-paying job just so that he could look over a copycat band.  He couldn't waste his time on something like that, and he quite frankly didn't have the patience for such things.  K was determined to make a mark in the world somehow, even if he was pretty much only in the background.  That didn't matter, he was used to it.  You learned to live in the shadows of not necessarily greater, but those thought to be more important men than yourself when you served as an American Secret Agent.

   And after several years in the force, he was highly trained in pretty much everything under the sun.  He had a deadly aim when it came to guns, and he'd taken, and excelled in, along with several crime busting, forensics, and criminal profiling, courses in Public Relations and international relations, which was why he had found it so funny that his family and his old friends would ever doubt that an Ivy League school graduate like himself would not succeed in whatever new career path he'd chosen.  After all, his parents hadn't paid thousands of dollars for an education that would leave him unprepared to handle a spoiled bunch of Japanese musicians.

   '_How hard could it possibly be_?' He could remember asking his shell-shocked girlfriend, now left sulking back in America, when he'd announced his intent to 'find the band, or singer, who would change the Japanese music scene forever'.  

Apparently, it was all much harder than K had originally thought it would be.

   He tugged savagely on a stray lock of his blond hair, wishing that he could just block out the shrill voice of the female disco diva on stage who was currently singing some bastardized English song with Japanese phrases sprinkled liberally here and there.  He was beginning to regret his decision to leave his gun back at his apartment instead of taking it along.  He wouldn't necessarily have _shot_ the woman; just maybe aimed for the microphone she was wailing into and given her a good scare.  Her voice, along with the liquor that he'd imbibed throughout the course of the evening, was no doubt the cause of the alarming throbbing in his head.  He guessed that it was about time for him to go home before he acted out on his rather violent thoughts.  There was nothing here for him tonight. Again.

   Pushing back his chair, he rose to his feet, still rather steady in spite of having consumed more liquor than most men would be able to tolerate.  He was fumbling around in his jacket for his wallet; he needed to tip the pretty little thing that had been waiting on his table the whole evening, when the song that the woman on stage had been singing came to a 'dramatic' conclusion of what sounded like tin whistles and someone banging on kettles fading into blessed silence.  

   "_Thank god_!" K muttered under his breath.  He tucked a few bills under the glass that he'd left untouched.  The stage was dark; the next band to perform was already setting up, and he briefly debated whether he should stay around a little bit longer to give this new band a go, and decided against it.  He really did have a major headache coming along.  

He could make out a well-endowed girl who was testing out a few chords on her keyboards.  There was a slight brunette with his back turned against the crowd, chattering away to his companions about something that K couldn't quite make out, and a blond working on another set of keyboards who gave his friends the thumbs up sign, signaling for them to begin.

   The brunette stepped up to the microphone stand.  He was quite fetching, someone that would cause you to turn around for another look as he passed you in the streets, a young man in his early twenties with big, blue eyes strange for a Japanese, as he obviously was, that flashed with clear cut enthusiasm as they roamed over the crowd spread out before him.  It didn't seem to matter to him that the people were more concerned with their drinks than their performance.  He grinned at his less than captive audience, before taking up the microphone, "Good evening everyone!  We're Nittle Grasper and we're going to be performing a few songs for you tonight!"

   There was no reaction from the crowd.  K was beginning to feel sorry for the kid.  He was obviously new to the whole scene.  No doubt he'd leave this place later on, completely discouraged, his dreams of musical stardom having been shattered.  But he was young; he would soon realize that there were plenty of other things out there for him.  If you really didn't have the talent, then there was nothing you could do.

   There was a brief instant when K thought that the singer had frozen up, daunted by the lack of response.  Then he took a deep breath, obviously bracing himself and nodded to the blond at his right, time for them to begin.

   Quite suddenly, the lights on the stage flared up, illuminating Nittle Grasper, as the first strains of their song reached K's ears.  The brunette had closed his eyes, swaying his body to the music.  He seemed to have slipped somewhere deep within himself as the first heavy electronic riff caught K's attention.  It caused him to stop dead in his tracks on his way to the door, the heady mix of synthesized sound and excellent keyboard arrangement better than anything he'd heard in a long time.  It was reminiscent of the Europop that had grown so popular in the Japanese clubs, with good old J-rock influences.

   On cue, the brunette's eyes flew open, and for the first time K was treated to the sound of his voice dancing nimbly along with the music, falling, rising, seeming to be completely carried along by the melody, as though the singer were pouring out his very soul into the performance.  As though he were the song itself as he moved along with it, seeming to have forgotten that there was anyone else in that room with him.

   "_Imamo todokanu hikari no yukue, azayaka ni mau omoi o egakuo.  Michibiku kotoba ga koborete shimawanu youni utsuru toki o osorinaide_," the boy sang.  His voice reached out to everyone, begging to be heard, to be acknowledged; for its beauty and strength to be appreciated, as eventually, even the most far-gone of the bar's patrons came to.  

    K shook his head, a small smile on his lips, his eyes still trained to the brunette performing like a seasoned pro only a few yards before him.  He highly doubted that he'd be able to tear his gaze away from the stunning sight of someone who was obviously born to take to the stage, even if he had wanted to.  He guessed that his previous skepticism about the kid's ability had been a mistake, for even the lyrics moved K.  He had to make a bit of an effort to translate the words into English so that he could further appreciate the beauty of the song's words, but they spoke to him, as though they were meant to reassure him about the path that he'd decided to take as he took in their meaning: _Even now, wherever the light can't shine through, we shall paint a brilliant dancing dream.  So that the words that guide you do not fail, don't fear the time of change._

The song went on, further ensnaring K in its haunting words which seemed to be directed entirely at him, as though the singer were giving him a private performance of sorts, "_Umarekawari no anata yo, hitori hohoemanaide hitomi o irodoru.  Nozonda sekai ga totsuzen hai ni nattemo, kiseki wa mada megurikuru."_

Many years later, whenever he was asked if there had been a single specific incident that had convinced him that he'd done the right thing by giving up his job and taking up a new career in music, those words would come to his mind:  _This is your new life! An unsmiling person with darkened eyes.  With the world you desired suddenly turning into ash, by some miracle, we met fortuitously._

   Whenever he was asked that question, he answered yes, there had been, but didn't further volunteer any additional information.  

   They didn't need to know that K's flagging hopes had been renewed by the sight of that young Sakuma Ryuichi, by the lyrics of 'Sleepless Beauty', a song that since then, countless people had heard, and which would always remain K's ultimate favorite in Nittle Grasper's extensive repertoire, even after they'd had countless other award winning songs under their belts.   

   But that was still a long way into the future as he watched this band perform, as he watched the young singer dancing energetically to the song, drawing everyone who saw and heard him under his spell.  There was simply no escaping him.  They were captured in his thrall.  K couldn't take his eyes off the sinuous body twisting and writhing along to the music.  The singer's floppy, chocolate brown hair flew every which way as he flung his head about rapturously, keeping time to the music.  He embodied energy, the way he moved oozed sex appeal, and yet every time there was a slight lull in his singing and he smiled out to the audience, there was a look of innocence about him, giving him the appearance of a child who was ecstatically happy to be doing something that he absolutely loved.

   And though the singer really did take center stage with his charisma, that wasn't to say that the other two members of the band were without their own brand of appeal.  Both were certainly very attractive as their fingers flew deftly over the keyboards, both of them every bit as immersed in the making of beautiful music with their front man.

   And all too soon the music came to a stop.  K remained oblivious to the mad applause that followed after the stunning performance, simply standing there, watching the movement of the brunette singer as he introduced the next song that he identified as 'Predilection', too wrapped up in the joy that was consuming him as he finally became certain that he'd found everything that he'd been looking for in Nittle Grasper.

*********

Ryuichi was being even more difficult to handle than usual, Touma mused, as he cleaned up the mess that his friend had made on the counter with some white-board markers that he'd brought to work with him.  He could usually make Ryuichi settle down with a few words, but Touma guessed that he was still too worked up over their well-received performance the night before for anything to dampen his high spirit.  Truth be told, even Touma was still carrying over the euphoria from that night, working with far more enthusiasm than he normally had.

   He was always like this after a gig, all of them were.  He would experience a sudden burst of hope that maybe the three of them could really achieve what they had set out to do when they'd first formed Nittle Grasper, then it was back to reality, back to the daily grind of work, work, work, after which came a few hours of practice each day in the basement of Noriko's apartment building in preparation for their next performance.  It was then that he began to have his doubts about the lifestyle that he and his friends led. 

   When times were particularly rough and money was tight, which it quite often was these days, Touma became discouraged.  He loved music; it was his life.  But there were occasions, such as when he and Ryuichi had very nearly been evicted from the apartment that they shared because they'd had to replace a blown set of speakers and had forgotten all about the rent, when he was very tempted to just be practical and give up altogether.  

Then he'd see Ryuichi give a mind-blowing performance like the one the night before, and his faith was restored in Nittle Grasper's singer, in his own ability and Noriko's.  When he was onstage with his two best friends, there was never any doubt in his mind where Nittle Grasper was headed.  How could they possibly fail with the winning combination that the three of them made?

   He looked over at Ryuichi, who had his elbows resting on the counter beside him and was watching him avidly, as though waiting for him to do something interesting.  "Hi Touma!" He moved the hand of the pink-stuffed bunny that he held to and fro to make it seem as though the toy were waving at him.

   "Hi Ryuichi," Touma responded absently.  The brunette frowned, dark brows drawing together in clear displeasure.  "I meant hi Kumagorou," He amended quickly, before Ryuichi could begin to give him a lecture about speaking to Kuma-chan when he addressed him.  Touma wasn't a mind reader, and could therefore never tell when Ryuichi was speaking, or when he wanted him to think that his stuffed toy was, much to his best friend's annoyance.

   But Touma's sincerity when it came to apologizing to the bright pink bunny for his mistake was enough to appease him.  Ryuichi grinned toothily at him and pointed to his most treasured possession, "Kuma-chan says Ryu-chan was shining yesterday!  Pika pika Ryu-chan!" He finished by opening and closing his palm, mimicking the gestures to 'twinkle twinkle little star' that countless of parents had taught to their children.

   "Yes.  Pika pika Ryu-chan," Touma agreed readily, somehow managing to sound serious even as he repeated his friend's childish words.  Ryuichi was right, he really _had_ shone when he'd performed, and there was no other way to describe it.  He had simply radiated energy, not that that was anything new.  Ryuichi did everything with enthusiasm: it was what drew people to him.  He just had this talent for making everyone around him feel alive.  "But for now Ryuichi, back to work."  He hated to have to be the one to bring the guy crashing back down to earth, but he couldn't take care of everything himself.  He threw a blue apron at Ryuichi, which he caught and tied around Kumagorou's neck.  Touma sighed.

   "We're going to be famous, Touma!" Ryuichi insisted, tugging on his sleeve.  As was his habit, he completely ignored topics that didn't appeal to him. It was a tiring trait, and one that most often caused Touma to lose his temper with him.  "Someday soon, everyone will know about Nittle Grasper and Ryuichi will shine!  Touma and Noriko-chan will shine, and the people who'll hear our songs will shine too!"

   It was hard not to catch Ryuichi's fevered enthusiasm.  Touma smiled, gently extricating his sleeve from his companion's grasp.    "That's right, Ryuichi.  Someday we'll shine.  But until then, we have to work unless we want to be kicked out of our apartment, ne?  Rent is already two days overdue," he reminded him.  Ryuichi shuddered, no doubt remembering what had happened the last time they'd failed to pay up.  He'd never been particularly fond of their landlord, who frightened him.

   The bell over the door chimed, signaling the arrival of a customer, "Irasshaimase," Touma called out automatically, not paying the new arrival any more attention until Ryuichi let out an alarming sound of terror, raising Kumagorou before him as though the stuffed toy could somehow protect him from whatever it was that had so frightened him.

   Alarmed, Touma followed Ryuichi's terrified eyes to where a fair-haired man towered over the two of them, eyes covered with a pair of dark tinted glasses as he calmly leveled a gun on Touma's forehead.  He gulped, certain that this was it for him, which was quite a disappointment, since he still had quite a long to do list.  

He and Ryuichi worked the night shift in a twenty-four hour convenience store and had therefore received training on how to handle hold-ups, considering how dangerous their job was, but it seemed as though his mind had conveniently chosen to forget everything that he had been trained to do in such a situation.  No amount of training could possibly prepare you for that sort of thing.  They'd failed to mention the fact that your body would just freeze up on you when a gun was pressed against your forehead, how inconsiderate of them.  "Whatever it is you want, you can have it.  Take all the money in the register.  Take _anything_.  Just please don't hurt us!" He pleaded, voice shaking.  He'd lost whatever composure he had.  Noriko would be surprised if she saw him like this.  She'd always claimed that Touma would manage to remain perfectly rational and levelheaded, even if he were facing death itself.  

   She was wrong.

   The armed robber looked puzzled, as though he'd been expecting a warm welcome in spite of the gun that he wielded.  He pointed to the handgun, "Are you scared of this old thing?" He asked, sounding surprised by the prospect.  Touma nodded, thinking that he was on some sort of power trip.  Ryuichi had dissolved into uncontrollable sobbing, tears streaming down his cheeks.  "Hey, hey!  Come on!" The gun wielding maniac lapsed into English as he tucked the pistol away and pushed his sunglasses up to reveal dark-blue eyes shining with mirth, "It was just a gun!" Apparently, this was meant to soothe his two captives.

   Seeing the gun safely out of the way, Ryuichi pulled his arm back and hurled the stuffed toy at the blond with all his strength.  "_Kumagorou Attack!_" He shrieked at the top of his lungs.  It caught him right on the face and sent him reeling, straight into a display rack of paperback romance novels.  It unfortunately didn't stop him for that long.  Soon enough, the intruder was back to his feet, clutching his injured nose, Kumagorou in one hand.  Ryuichi let loose with another one of his blood curdling screams, his hands splayed dramatically over his cheeks in a show of anguish.  "Nooo!  Kumagorou!  I'll be good!  I'll be good!  I'll do anything you want as long as you don't hurt Kumagorou!"

   The man looked at the toy that he held, obviously bemused and wondering why the thing was so important to Ryuichi.  It wasn't every day that you saw a twenty-plus kid walking around with a stuffed toy after all.  "Tell you what, I'll give you this back," he held the rabbit up by one of its ears, earning yet another horrified yell from the hysterical brunette, "and we forget about the gun.  I didn't mean to scare you.  I've forgotten how delicate Japanese people are when it comes to firearms.  Deal?"  He held the stuffed toy up enticingly.   

   "Deal." Ryuichi readily agreed, nothing in his mind more complicated than the need to get his Kumagorou safely away from the evil clutches of this man.  But before he could step out from behind the counter, Touma grabbed him by the collar of his uniform shirt and yanked him back.

   "Ryuichi!" He snapped, expression not softening, even as the brunette directed his big, hurt blue eyes up at Touma, "You can't just go to that guy just because he tells you that he'll give you back your Kumagorou!  He's a maniac!  He might take you hostage for all you know!" God, someday soon he had no doubt that Ryuichi would give him a heart attack with his tendency to act without thinking.  Until then though, he'd be around to watch out for his friend.

   "But Touma!"

   "Stay there!" He shouted.  He very rarely yelled at Ryuichi, but when he did, Ryuichi listened.  He recognized Touma's authority and when it wasn't wise to disobey him.  Touma turned his attention to the intruder.  The man's expression wasn't in the least bit threatening. In fact, he was grinning in an open, friendly way as he watched the interaction between him and his friend, but Touma was not in the habit of trusting anyone who jumped into a convenience store with a gun at hand, no matter how friendly his smile.  "Please.  Just take anything you want and then leave."

   "But I don't want anything," The man insisted, " Look, as a token of my goodwill, I'll give this toy back to the kid, all right?" He threw the rabbit at Ryuichi, who caught it and hugged it to his chest immediately, showering it with kisses, "I was at The Hotspot last night, I saw you guys perform.  That's why I'm here.  I'm not going to rob you. I'm beginning to think the gun was a bad idea, but old habits die hard."

   "So you make it a habit to walk around carrying a gun?"

   "Well, yeah.  I used to work in law enforcement.  Rifles were standard issue."

   "Oh."  Touma's hand hovered just over the panic button located under the counter.  He appeared to be harmless, so in the meantime, he'd hear him out, and if he made any sudden moves towards him and Ryuichi, then he would sound the alarm.  "Who are you?"

   "I'm Claude Winchester or K for short, everyone just pretty much calls me that." He extended a hand, but allowed it to drop back down onto his side as Touma yelled for him to stay back.  "And you must be…?"

   "Scary Touma-kun!" Ryuichi supplied, bottom lip quivering.  He hadn't forgotten the way that Touma had yelled at him.

   "Scary Touma-kun," K repeated, nodding as if to say that the name that Ryuichi had given him perfectly suited Touma, "And you are?"

   "Ryuichi-kun."

   "And the bunny?"

   Ryuichi beamed at him.  "Kumagorou." Kumagorou really was the way to his heart.  He couldn't forgive Touma for yelling at him, which he had done purely out of concern for him, and now here he was smiling cheerfully up at the guy who just moments before had held the two of them at gunpoint.  Touma rolled his eyes.

   "Where's the pretty girl on the keyboards?" K inquired, looking over their shoulders as though he expected her to materialize from behind them, asking about what all the noise was about.

   That was when everything slipped into place for Touma.  Of course!  Noriko-chan was a very beautiful woman, and always managed to attract unwanted attention from horny men every time they performed.  "If you're interested in Noriko-chan, give it up.  She's already very happy with her boyfriend.  Who is a very, very big man," he added for good measure.

   "A very big man," Ryuichi agreed.

   This didn't seem to faze K.  "Actually, yeah I am interested.  I'm very interested in all three of you," K replied.  Seeing the shocked look on Touma's face, he decided that he'd better elaborate on what he'd meant before he managed to scare the guy off completely.  It was quite obvious to him that Touma was the one to talk to, and not the brunette singer, as he'd originally thought.  "I have a business proposition for you."

   Touma stiffened, a look of incredulity on his face.  "K-san, I admit that Ryuichi and I are having a bit of a hard time making ends meet these days, but we'd never resort to anything that low!  We have our principles! There are some things that we just won't do!  So you ecchi gaijin can go and find some other guys to have fun with because-"

   "This ecchi gaijin just wanted to ask if Nittle Grasper was in need of a well-connected manager," K clarified.  Damn the Japanese habit of completely misunderstanding things and seeing innuendo in the most innocent of comments.  "What did you think I was asking you for?" He demanded, more so that he could put Touma on the spot than for anything else.

   Touma flushed.  He cleared his throat and tried to avoid K's eyes.  What a mess he was making of things.  "It doesn't matter."

   "Yes it does.  Do I look like that much of a pervert?"

   "Not at all, K-san," Touma demurred, thoroughly embarrassed.  Then he recalled K's less than pleasant entrance, "But what else was I supposed to think when you jumped in here carrying a gun like that!  To my knowledge, talent managers don't go around armed to the teeth!"

   "Well, this talent manager does," the gun made another appearance as K fondled the barrel lovingly, "I find that people are more likely to do what I want them to when they have a gun to their forehead."

   "Smart," Touma commented.  The reason for K's appearance didn't fully sink in until the man handed him a cream colored calling card with his name and number printed on it and the words 'Talent Manager, Verve Productions' jumped out at him.  "Verve?" Touma fell silent.  He knew what Verve Productions was, of course.  Every struggling musician dreamed of being one day discovered by Verve, one of the biggest record companies in Japan.  He looked up at K, jaw slightly slack.  He didn't seem like the type who worked in the music business.  He seemed more suited to breaking down doors and high-speed car chases with bad guys.  Silently, he handed the card over to Ryuichi, whose eyes fairly bugged out in disbelief as he read it.

   "Yeah.  I saved the life of the principal stockholder of the company one day and he said that if I ever needed anything, I should go ask him.  So when I quit the force, I went to him and asked for a job."

   "And he made you a manager?" Touma concluded.

   "Well, yeah."  K shrugged, "My old job wasn't really that different from talent managing.  I was pretty handy at pushing around fat old politicians back in America, so I though, how much harder could it be to push a bunch of spoiled artists around?"

   "And now you want to push Nittle Grasper around?" Ryuichi asked, voice low, eyes veiled by thick locks of his hair.  He was still staring down at the card as though he couldn't believe it.  It was one of the few moments when Touma actually saw him restrained.  It was also the moment when Touma had most expected him to go completely out of his mind with joy, so his friend's reserved behavior struck him as a bit out of character.   

   "I want to push Nittle Grasper right up to the top of the charts," K told them both.  His smile had gone and in its place was a look of determination that served to reassure Touma that the man really meant what he was saying.  He really did intend to help Nittle Grasper.  "I don't think that it's unrealistic to expect something like that from the three of you.  I saw you guys yesterday, and I know that you have a future.  A big one.  That's why I chose you for my first assignment."

   "Hear that, Touma?" Ryuichi whispered.  His grip around Kumagorou tightened.  Everything seemed so unreal.  He was afraid that any moment now, K would burst out laughing and tell them that this offer was all just a big joke, that he was just fooling around and didn't really have time to waste on a no talent loser like him.  But K was still there. He was still going on about what a great performance they'd given the night before.  Under the counter he found Touma's hand and squeezed, immediately feeling a whole lot better when he realized that his friend was right there beside him.  He only wished that Noriko were with them to share this.  That would have made the moment absolutely perfect.

   "Are…are you serious?" Touma demanded, looking every bit as dumbstruck as Ryuichi did.  He needed to sit down.  Touma pulled a chair to him and fairly collapsed onto it.

   "Dead serious," K confirmed.  He was enjoying this.  From the way that the two younger men were looking at him, you'd have thought that he'd dropped down from the heavens and announced that he was their guardian angel.  In a way, he guessed that he really sort of was, "Of course, I have to get the go ahead from Tsuzuki-san, but I personally think that the moment he sees you perform, he'll be clamoring to sign you on."

   "And when will this be?  When can we meet Tsuzuki-san?" Touma asked, his excitement evident in his tone of voice.  This was their dream come true after all; there was no use in acting coy around K.  Wasn't this what they had worked so hard for over the years?

   "There's going to be a welcome to the company party for me tomorrow at the Verve building," K told them, knowing that he'd pretty much secured the deal, "I want Nittle Grasper to make an appearance.  I'll introduce you around after they see you live on stage.  You guys will be ready?"

   "It's a bit of a short notice," Touma pointed out, his teeth biting into his bottom lip as he thought about all the things that they'd have to do to be prepared.  They'd have to warn Noriko, of course, and they'd have to practice, get the equipment ready, decide on what to wear…god, did they have enough time to get all of that done?

   Ryuichi placed a hand on his shoulder as if to reassure him.  "But it doesn't matter, does it Touma?" The look on Ryuichi's face left no doubt, and Touma suddenly knew that they _would_ be ready, and that they would give one hell of a performance at that party.  They had to.  "Nittle Grasper will be there, and we'll shine.  We always do."

*********

   The evening went pretty much as K had expected it to.  He kicked some shit around with several other employees of the company, though it was obvious that the two-faced little bastards were not at all enthusiastic about having a gaijin intruder in their midst even as they reassured him that he was welcome in the Verve family.  He made the rounds with Nittle Grasper, and there were no major incidents until a bouncy Ryuichi was introduced to the stately, much younger wife of one of the company executives, and said wife began to make a move on the young man, which didn't please her husband.

   That was when K decided to let Nittle Grasper take to the stage so that the scene that the enraged husband had made could be forgotten, and as expected, Ryuichi, Touma and Noriko brought down the house.

   There was not a single woman left in the ballroom who was not going on and on about how gorgeous Ryuichi and Touma were, how adorable they were and how they just wanted to take those two home, and there wasn't a single man who didn't see a money-making machine in Nittle Grasper.  K was fairly preening as he accepted numerous compliments for the band that he'd discovered, and it was when he found the band members mobbed into a corner by numerous women that he became certain of Nittle Grasper's future.  There was no way that they could fail if they got this sort of reaction from a bloodless bunch like this.

   He elbowed his way relentlessly through the crowd, retrieved his band and whisked them off to a more secluded corner of the room, where he simply stood there with his hands to his waist and chuckled madly in a way that was reminiscent of mad scientists who had just managed to bring a bunch of sewn together body parts to life.

   "Ne, K-san, you're scaring Ryuichi!" Noriko reprimanded him, one arm around the brunette who was trying to make himself invisible behind her and failing miserably.  K jumped forward without warning and pulled his singer out from behind Noriko.

   "You precious, precious boy!" He sang out, looking fit to burst with pride.

   "I take it you liked what you saw," Touma commented dryly.

   "Not only me, Touma!  Not only me!  Do you realize that the three of you have gotten this room full of blood suckers under your spell?" K paused before continuing, "Of course, that may just be because they smell all of the money that Nittle Grasper revenue will bring them, but that doesn't matter.  The point is that you've gotten the suckers!"

   "K-san is sure about that?" Ryuichi asked tentatively.

   "Of course.  Take it from me!  By the end of this evening…" Someone was tapping on his shoulder. K whirled around, ready to give the bastard a piece of his mind, and came chest to face with the portly, balding old president of the record company.  His curses died abruptly on his lips, and he grinned toothily, "Tsuzuki-san!  What a pleasure to see you!"   

   "May I have a word with you?" He asked.  The old man looked over K's shoulder and waved at the three young people gathered behind the American, "Good evening.  Quite a performance you gave tonight.  I'll be looking forward to seeing more of Nittle Grasper in the near future."

   As K trailed after Tsuzuki, he flashed the three a thumbs up sign.  They had it in the bag.  The company president couldn't even stop singing the band's praises as they went off towards the bar.

   "Wherever did you find them, K-san?"  Tsuzuki asked as he handed K his drink, "I must admit that I had my doubts when Maki-san demanded you be given a job here at Verve, but obviously you have an ability to recognize what makes money out there.  I'm old and rather out of touch with the trends, I'm afraid. So it's good to know that there's someone like you who can recognize the future of the Japanese music scene."

   "So you approve of Nittle Grasper, Tsuzuki-san?" 

   "Well, their brand of music is not exactly the kind that I personally go for, but if the crowd's reaction to them is any indication of their effect on people, then I think that Verve can't pass them up.  One thing though, K-san," Tsuzuki paused in a way that did not bode well for K, "With a band that holds so much promise, like Nittle Grasper, I'd really prefer for them to be managed by a person with more experience. You do see where I'm coming from, don't you?"

   K took a sip of his drink, somehow resisting the urge to knee the guy in the crotch, as was his first impulse.  So this was it.  He got them talent with unmistakable potential, and then they patted him on the head and sent him off to the sidelines.  He could of course see why Tsuzuki was so wary of placing Nittle Grasper in his charge.  Being sadly inexperienced, he just might make a bad decision that would hinder the advance of Nittle Grasper, and he would never forgive himself if he did that.  Those three deserved the very best after all.  He opened his mouth, about to say of course he understood, when he felt a dead weight clinging onto him from behind.  "I want K-san!"

   He craned his head around and caught a glimpse of Ryuichi pressing himself against his back.  He had to give it to the guy; he had quite a grip that you wouldn't expect from someone his size.  Tsuzuki raised an eyebrow at the sudden appearance of one of the subjects of their discussion.  "Sakuma-san?"

   "I want K," Ryuichi repeated adamantly, finally letting go and perching Kumagorou onto K's shoulder, "I like K and Kumagorou likes K too!  And he says that he only wants K to be our manager because Kuma trusts him, and so do I!"

   "Is that so?"  Ryuichi nodded in response to Tsuzuki's question.  The old man sighed.  He'd been backed into a corner.  He wanted Nittle Grasper, and if it made the singer happy, then who was he to say no?  He'd just have to have someone keep an eye on K and the new band.  "Well then, we'll have to take what you're saying into consideration.  We do like to keep our people happy here in Verve."

   "So you're saying…"

   Tsuzuki nodded, "Let's get together Monday to discuss the terms of Nittle Grasper's contract."  

   Whatever K had been about to say was lost as Ryuichi clamped onto the American and began to squeal happily.  Soon enough Touma and Noriko joined in, and K was entirely surrounded by the people who had changed his life.  Whether for better or worse, only time would tell.  Until then, they had work to do.

To Be Continued…

**Notes:**

The song that Nittle Grasper performed in the bar was 'Sleepless Beauty', one of my favorites of all the songs in Gravitation.

   This is my interpretation of how Nittle Grasper was discovered, and since there was no real info on how this came about, I took the liberty of making up the scenario myself in a way that suited the story.

   As far as I know, whether or not Nittle Grasper had a manager before Ryuichi called the group back together was never answered.  I think that it's because Touma, being the busy boy that he is, acted as the Producer/Manager/Keyboardist and K never was the Nittle Grasper manager.  He only came into the scene later on once Ryuichi pursued a solo career.  But please allow me to take the liberty of giving K this job ^_^, as it makes things a lot more convenient for the fic, and I began to write it before I actually realized that it was never once mentioned that K was involved with the complete Nittle Grasper in any way.  By then, I'd already pretty much finished this part, the plot bunny had me completely, and I couldn't really change the fic anymore, so please allow me this slight discrepancy in the storyline. 

   I made up the record company that K was working for and who first signed NG on.  I was always under the impression that Touma was the one who founded NG Productions, and he couldn't have done that before getting a bit of a head start at another place.

   Also, forgive me for the less than original title…*snerk*

Laree ^_^

Finished:  April 6, 2003


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